


All the Time in the World

by AstralArtificer



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, It Turns Out FINE, Jon is anxious, M/M, Martin finds the button to fix everything and it works, Multi, everyone is alive and everything is fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28461489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstralArtificer/pseuds/AstralArtificer
Summary: Jon and Martin attend a New Year's Eve party, with some hesitance. It goes swimmingly.
Relationships: Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Kudos: 45





	All the Time in the World

**Author's Note:**

> I have not written anything besides essays/thesis in literal years so please bear with me! My resolution for this year was to write more and it didn't really happen so I decided to sit down and write something today. I have been listening to Magnus non-stop to get me through this year, so it is no surprise the content. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Happy New Year's Eve!

"Are you sure you'll be alright tonight?" 

"I'm sure. I'm fine, I- I think this will be good for me, actually. A New Year's Eve party is more normal than I've had in…than I've ever had, honestly."

There's a pause on the other end of the line, an intake of breath to fuel more words.

"...alright, Jon. If you're sure. I just really don't want you pushing yourself. We can always stay home, just the two of us. I don't mind, we could just video chat-"

"Martin," his voice is harsher than he meant, a tone he hasn't used in quite some time. He inhales deeply through his nose and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It really is fine, I promise. I know you miss everyone. I want this."

"Okay, love," the tenderness is so tangible through the phone. He can hear some rustling in the background, the crinkle of paper. "I've only got one more errand, I'll be back soon. Was there anything in particular you wanted to drink?"

"Something strong," Jon chuckles. He can hear Martin smile through the phone.

"I'll see what I can grab. I love you, Jon. I'll be home soon."

"I love you, too. See you soon." The word _home_ still makes something flutter in his chest, even though they've been together for so long now. Since the safe house. Was that a year ago? More?

It's been...awhile since the world returned to normal. Jon doesn't actually recall how much time has lapsed. He doesn't remember much these days, as if his mind is hungover from all the Knowing and can no longer store more. It's an adjustment, to be sure. He feels as if he’s living in a fog, much of the time. The world had once been a map to him, a web of thoughts and intentions and plans and goals and futures. Now, it’s just him and his thoughts.

Miraculously, the archives are restored and intact. And unsettlingly... _ordinary_ now. The lingering, omnipresent unease that had saturated the building is gone. It's now just an old library, just a collection of weird, spooky accounts. There haven't been too many statements since.

_Not enough distractions._

Though maybe it's best for Jon to take it easy on the statements. They don't fuel him the same way they used to. Though, they also don't drain him the way they used to before. 

Yet still, he _craves_ them, out of simply habit maybe? It's good to take a break…

He sighs, tucking his mobile into his pocket and reaching up to brush hair out of his face. He should get ready for tonight. The last time he showered is also a blur.

\-----

"Let me know if you need to go. Or talk or be alone or anything. _Please_." 

Martin's looking at him and Jon looks back. Looks too closely, noting every vessel, every strand of muscle in the iris, every slight contraction as the train passes through changing light. 

He's used to eyes being piercing, boring into the core of a being. There's still an intensity in Martin's gaze but he knows the affection that lies behind it and that changes the attention so profoundly. 

Jon can't believe they're doing something so normal as a dinner party for New Years Eve. It feels like a dream. The kind of blatant normalcy that you brain puts forth to calm you, like something from a sitcom. For a second his mind wanders and he thinks maybe this is a dream, maybe this is all a dream and he'll wake up and they'll still be in the hellscape, of course, it couldn't have ended so simply, gone back to normal so completely, it's too good to be true, he can't believe he _believed_ _this_.

But then, when was the last time he even dreamed of something so simple? This isn’t something he would concoct as reality. It's too... uncomplicated. _Too normal._ And that somehow puts him at ease.

"Jon?" The warm, firm hold on his hand tightens and his gaze flits away as he squeezes back.

"I will, Martin, I- I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize." A smile, fingers brush the strands of hair back from his face that had escaped the low ponytail. Jon looks back at Martin to see his gaze trailing over his body, lingering on his chest. "I didn't know you owned colors. Where did you get this?"

He gestures at Jon's tie, patterned with holiday lights against a navy background.

"Actually, you gave it to me." At Martin's clear puzzlement, Jon elaborates. "We all did a gift exchange, our first year at the archive. One of those grab bag things. Where you bring in cheap little gifts and everyone takes turns drawing something out. I never wore it, it haven't worn it until now, but I kept it. I thought it might be more festive."

Jon feels _silly_ , he should've just worn his usual. He tries to avoiding clothing choices that garner comments and attention, especially these days. Besides, its past Christmas and he’s got Christmas lights on his tie, he should take it off--

"I love it. You look properly _handsome_ , all dressed up."

The flutter in his stomach recedes. 

\-----

It's surreal approaching Georgie's apartment. The last time they'd been here had been such a different note. He'd made life so difficult for Georgie, for Melanie…

Unwittingly, he hesitates slightly walking towards the door and Martin notices immediately and is reassuring him before he even processes his own feelings.

“If it’s too much, we don’t need to-“

“It’s okay, Martin.” Jon places his hand on Martin’s cheek, feels the slight stubble and runs his thumb along the surface, the texture calming him. “I was just reminiscing about the last time we were here on…less _friendly_ terms.”

“Ah,” a hand comes to rest on top of his own. “I’m sure tonight will be better.”

“The bar is rather low.”

They both laugh and knock on the door hand in hand.  
  
“Oh it’s _you_.” Melanie answers the door, surveying them up and down. Her eyesight had returned when the world had reset, miraculously.

“Hey, Melanie!” Martin held out a wrapped bottle to her and a bag. “I brought champagne! And some snacks.”

She takes the offerings, gaze lingering on Jon, before softening. “Thanks, Martin. How have you two been?”

“Not bad.” Martin enters, peeling off his shoes. Jon, hesitantly, follows his example. “How are you and Georgie? Are the others here?”

Distant laughter within answers for her, and Melanie smiles and takes Martin’s coat. “We’re doing well, actually. Everything feels…normal. Nice normal. Georgie is great. She’s upstairs with Tim and Sasha.”

Jon hangs his coat where Melanie placed Martin’s and busies himself removing his scarf.  
  
Something soft brushes his leg and he crouches down, giving The Admiral a generous scratch behind the ears. He is met with a rumbling purr.

Martin and Melanie are chatting about something, Jon lets the dialogue fade as he focuses on the soft, warm fur beneath his fingers. He’s startled when Martin places a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m going up to say hi to the others. Did you want to come with?”

The Admiral rubs insistently against Jon for more attention and he begins scratching again, absentmindedly.

“He must have missed you.” Martin smiles.

“Yeah… I’ll be up in a minute.” Jon looks back at the cat. “It’s been awhile.” Since he’s seen a cat, since he’s been around more than one or two people (not including Martin).

“No rush, sweetheart. I love you.” Martin places a kiss on the top of Jon’s head and goes upstairs.

Jon can hear the distant greetings and laughter and voices. The Admiral jumps onto his shoulder and rubs against his neck. He is so thankful for cats.

\-----  
  
Jon follows not too long after. He _thinks_ but time has been awfully volatile so who can say.

“Hi, boss!” Tim greets, getting up from where he’s sitting to clap an arm around his shoulders. He no longer works at the archives, so Jon really is not his boss, but Tim has continued the term as endearment, a little joke of familiarity between the two of them.

“Jon!” Georgie hugs him as soon as Tim moves back. “You look well. Martin’s been taking good care of you?”

Jon can see Martin flush over Georgie’s shoulder. “He has. It’s good to see you. How have you been?”

“Good,” Georgie smiles, glancing at Melanie chatting away to some friends. Her smile deepens. “Really good. It feels surreal, y’know. Being back here, having a New Year’s Eve Party after all…that.” She gestures vaguely. “Feels like a nightmare, remembering all of that but…I’m glad we’re here. And together.”

She turns her smile to Jon. Jon returns it.

Sasha is in the corner, talking to a few unfamiliar faces with Tim. When she catches Jon looking over, she smiles and waves, and pantomimes “just a second” over at him.

Martin comes over and wraps an arm around Jon’s shoulder. “How are you holding up?” 

Jon relaxes at the familiar touch and presses into Martin. “Good but…I’ll take that drink.”

“One second,” Martin squeezes his shoulder and vanishes into the kitchen.

Jon lets himself dissolve into conversation with Georgie. When Martin returns and he’s had a few sips of the drink—strong as promised—he melts furthers. It’s been so long since he’s felt at peace, in the company of others who mean him well.

It’s nice and absolutely surreal.

\-----

It’s a bit past 11—Jon caught the time on the microwave before leaving: 11:09—when Jon excuses himself to the restroom for a bit and wanders downstairs. There is a bathroom down here, but he more wanted the excuse for space. He wanders around, vaguely remembering the short time he lived here. It feels like a lifetime ago. He is hardly the same person. If he’s even a person at all at this point…

And yet, strangely, he feels more himself than he ever has. He has friends, he has a _boyfriend_. Martin has been exceptional to him these past few months (this past year? Has it been a year?). Always ready with a tight hug, a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen, a cup of tea—anything he could possibly need. Jon doesn’t know how he would have acclimated to reality again without him. A world without the _The Watcher_ with whom he had been so deeply entwined. He owes Martin his life, in so many ways, and has done his best to return the affection to him in kind.

What was his goal from this point on? He had thought of nothing but _The_ _Fears_ , _The Avatars_ for so long. Why had he even joined the Magnus Institute in the first place? A love of books, of research? It’s all so distant. What does he even want out of life at this point? What is there to discover still?

He’s pulled from his thoughts again by a familiar brush against his leg. He looks down and The Admiral rolls over and bats his ankle softly. Jon sits and pets his head.

Time passes and eventually Martin shows up. He crouches next to Jon, and gives The Admiral a belly rub before getting a good swat. He retracts his hand and then moves to scratch the cat’s chin instead.

“How are you doing?” Martin looks up at him. He looks so at ease and relaxed. It’s such a change from how he was in that other world, that other life, always stressed, always _worried_.

“You worry about me too much,” Jon reprimands, but with a smile.

“I’ve had a lot of reasons to worry!” Martin gets the slightest bit defensive, his voice cracking the slightest as it raises a few octaves.

“I know, darling, I know,” Jon takes Martin’s hand in his own. “I’m really fine though. Better than I expected, _really_.”

“The fireworks are about the start. We can get going after 12 if you’d like.”

As an answer, Jon leans in and presses his lips to Martin’s, swiftly, softly. He can taste the eggnog and rum as the kiss deepens. Between the alcohol and the kiss, his vision swims but in a good way. He can feel his edges, the jagged and ragged bits of him softening. He feels _human_.

Martin pulls away and looks at his watch, then stands up and pulls Jon with him. “Let’s go before they finish!”

Jon gives The Admiral one last scratch before following.

\-----

They go up to the small balcony, crowded with their small party. There’s laughter, smiles, cheers as each firework weaves through the night and bursts into glittering embers. Jon looks around, seeing the faces of his once co-workers now friends lit in rainbows, changing with each new flare. Such clear happiness on each and every one of them.

The overwhelming sense that this is a dream, that the world can’t possibly have resulted in such a neat and tidy resolution after everything that had happened. Everything he had done. Did he deserve to be a part of this after all the lives he had damaged?

Martin wraps his arms around him and squeezes tight, resting his chin on Jon’s hair. He sighs, inhales deeply, and relaxes into his lover’s arms.

If it is a dream, it’s a lovely one. He is in no hurry to wake up anytime soon.

At midnight, a particularly raucous chorus of cheers resounds, as five fireworks sail up to the sky in tandem. They explode and the explosions continue, rapid fire. One after the other, sparks melding together until the entire sky is alight with color. This continues for a solid five minutes before they slowly taper off and there is one final, resounding cheer.

“We did it,” Martin smiles at him conspiratorially. “Thank you for coming out tonight, Jon. It means the world to me you did. We can get going now.”

“No rush, Martin,” Jon raises his hand and cups Martin’s cheek, brushing his thumb across the stubble once again, relaxing. He grins. “We have all the time in the world.”

It’s true, comparatively, as cliché as it sounds. Last year this time, they had been desperately searching for answers, for solutions to world-ending problems. Always racing an unseen clock.

But now…they could properly enjoy each other. Jon had time to figure out what he wanted in life, now that the world had ended and begun again. If he knew anything, he wanted more of this—more time with people that mattered. More time with Martin.

“In that case,” Martin’s smile widens and he moves away and towards the kitchen. “I’m going to grab more eggnog. Do you want some?”

Jon smiles at his boyfriend and nods, following him into the kitchen.

If this is a dream, he hope he never wakes up.


End file.
